


Time Lapse

by NowThatWereDone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Female Character of Color, Original Female Character - Freeform, Plot change, Post-Thor (2011), Pre-Avengers (2012), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:39:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatWereDone/pseuds/NowThatWereDone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is the future truly set?<br/>That's the question Amara Wilson (granddaughter of Falcon) is going to find out. Her world is subject to Thanos's psychotic reign. It's up to her to go back in time and stop Thanos from ever coming to power. Unfortunately, Amara is sent back a few years earlier, even before the Avengers have formed! Can she facilitate the Avengers in their quest to protect earth? Can she convince them that they need to prepare for the incoming Thanos? Or does time really flow about it's course no matter what someone does to change it? (Story begins right before Avengers starts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ends and Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm doing this.  
> Fair warning, we'll revisit some of the more notable Marvel moments-- tweak some, leave others.

Bullets made an oddly distinct sound when hitting steel doors. The _ping_ s that filled the safe room had a certain timbre to it, one that was almost indistinct but still shook Amara’s bones. Not that she’d let it show. Instead, she squared her shoulders and watched as Stark continued to tamper with the machine before him.

“Are you almost done?” Amara asked. Stark waved a hand in a fashion a bit too blasé for the current situation, but that was just how Stark rolled. Even so, it was hardly the time for one to be lackadaisical. People were dying. _They_ could die. Nobody challenged Thanos and walked away unscathed… Another spray of bullets had Amara’s shoulders jumping to her ears.

“Ha. Don’t think didn’t see that.” Amara had to take a breath to keep from yanking Stark’s man-bun. It wasn’t a time for childish antics either. She might’ve been only twenty three, but a day in her life could’ve aged a newborn. She needed to be responsible, cool tempered, level-headed…

“ _Focus, Stark._ ” The young man turned, so quickly it almost had Amara jumping again. His somber expression distracted her, though. Where a teasing grin usually rested, a bleak stare rested. It appeared Stark was very aware of the fact that, if they didn’t do this, they would more than likely be no more than the dust beneath their boots. Amara stepped down, nodding her head slowly as Stark turned back to finish building his machine.

More bullets.

“…Are you almost done?” Amara asked after a few more minutes. “I don’t mean to be a killjoy again, but I really don’t want to know how long it’ll take for a more competent patrol team to show up.” Stark grunted, tightening a few screws and testing a few wires. Amara raised her eyes every time sparks leapt from the spherical device. “That looks like it will kill us.”

“And so do bullets, but that doesn’t stop you from charging into the fray.”

“Yes, but it stops you.”

“Unlike some people in my family tree, I _don’t_ have a super suit.”

“As if your grandfather hadn’t left you the schematics.”

“I’m not a hero, Amy, I’m just not. Rushing into battle balls out is more your thing.” Well he wasn’t wrong. Still. Amara gave the machine another skeptical look.

“It works, right?” Stark stood up with an exasperated groan, throwing his gangly arms above his head.

“This is all theoretical, Amara, of course I don’t know if it works! The only reason I agreed to build this is because dying in a blaze of fire seemed slightly better than living another day in this hell.” Amara blinked. The show of genuine emotion was a little new for Phillip Anthony Stark, something aforementioned genius seemed to realize moments after the outburst. He coughed, scratching his cheek and looking to the ground. “It’s ready, though. So. Yeah.”

Amara probably would’ve pressed the situation if she knew there weren’t drones trying to break through their door at that very instant. So instead she rushed towards the machine, careful to step over the piles and piles of extension cords. Ideally, Stark had told her, they needed an arc reactor to stabilize the energy and blah-blah (honestly science made Amara sleepy), but since they didn’t really have _access_ to one, well…

A bunch of power outlets would have to do.

“So, this is the door?” Amara asked, placing her hands against smooth metal. “Are you sure this is going to fit us both? It looks kind of small.”

“It’ll be fine,” Stark assured her, moving to where he’d projected his information on the far wall, typing at this, swiping away that. Amara peered warily at the sphere beside her. It really did look small. A bit too small. But then, it wasn’t like they’d had a lot of materials to use in the first place. It was truly a miracle they’d even been able to build anything at all. “Alright… head inside our baby while I make some last minute adjustments to the system,” Stark instructed.

“I can’t seem to find a handle, Stark. A design oversight?”

“Oh, yeah, let me just…” Stark typed at the holographic keypad and, like magic, the door hissed open. Amara frowned.

“Okay, there’s only one seat in—” _Boom!_ The room shook. Amara spun around, her hands instinctively flying to the solar maces on either side of her thighs. They were coming. By the sound of that specific blast, it was probably a Destroyer.

She could take it.

Unfortunately, Amara didn’t have the chance to test her confidence. Before she could even fully grab at her weapons, she felt something ram into her side, forcing her to fall back into the sphere. She even hit her head against the seat’s edge, causing a kaleidoscope of colors to burst in front of her eyes for a moment.

“What on earth…?” She moved to stand up, to see just what it was that hit her, but right as she started to straighten, she saw the door to the pod close shut. She couldn’t reach it fast enough to stop it from doing so. “Stark? Stark! What the hell’s going on?” There was a small window at the side of the pod, on that’s grey glass brightened so she could see Stark on the other side of it. The somber expression was back. Amara pounded a fist against the window. “Open the door, Stark.”

“I’m sorry, Amara.” He never said that. Amara’s heart fluttered.

“Stark, I’m not playing _games_ with you.”

“I’m not either.” She saw him turn back to the holo-computer, saw him start to type things in. The whole machine began to whir beneath her feat, warming with energy. _Oh no._ “I’m sorry,” Stark said again, his back still to her, “but this is the only way.”

“What are you talking about?” Amara asked, looking about herself to see if there was a way out. Of course, Stark was too smart a person to leave a visible loophole for Amara to guess. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t still scour for one. “We’re supposed to do this together, Stark, me and you.”

“No, it was supposed to be all of us. The Legacies. Me and you and Rogers and Barton and all of the other Avengers’ bloods who’d sworn to protect the world. But it’s just us now.”

“All the more reason for us to go back together,” Amara said, ramming her foot against the machine’s sidewall as she spoke. Even with her enhanced strength, there wasn’t even a hint of damage. Curse the Stark bloodline and their aptitude with machines. “Stark, please, think about this!” The machinery started whirring louder, spewing steam and churning cogs that threatened to overpower Amara’s voice. “If you stay here you’ll die!”

“I’m already dying, Amy.” Stark straightened up once more so she could look at him, really look at him. He wasn’t the tall, powerful man he’d once been before the war had become particularly dire. He was gaunt, sickly pale, with more hair on his face than fat on his bones. He was a ghost of his former self, which very much had to do with the fact that Natalie Barton—his fiancée—had died at the hands of Thanos himself.

“You don’t have to do this,” Amara cried. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She couldn’t even bring herself to care about it, either, not if Stark was really going to do all of _this_. “Nat wouldn’t want you to do this. You can still change her death, Stark, you can still—”

“This isn’t about Nat! This is about me not having the resources to build something stronger, me not having the time to waste improving my designs to better accommodate two people! We don’t have the power to send both of us back, Amara, we just don’t! And one of us has to make it back, one of us has to stop this!” She didn’t want to hear it.

“Phil,” Amara sobbed, pounding against the small window. “Phil, please don’t do this!” But he turned away from her again, typing furiously. Amara continued banging against the glass as she saw the door rip off of it’s hinges. She continued banging against the glass as she saw Stark flipping the switch. And just before her world spiraled into nothing, she saw Thanos’s henchmen drive a spear through her best friend’s heart.

After that, though, it all went black.

*

Truth be told, Darcy Lewis typically did not have many of what one would call ‘normal days’, not since her boss ran down a Norse god (or Asgardian or Advanced Being or whatever PC term floated through the web). Sure she had quiet days where she could work quietly in her apartment, typing away theses and reading text books for grad school, but they weren’t exactly normal. Most of those, she’d get calls from Jane asking about advice about her Royal Space Boyfriend.

Why Jane asked Darcy such things had less to do with the fact that they were friends and more to do with the fact that Jane couldn’t very well talk to anyone else about it. People weren’t supposed to know that Jane Foster had a thing with the god of thunder—SHIELD kept them all on a very tight leash ever since what went down in New Mexico. So Jane’s ability to divulge details about her love life suffered greatly.

Ahem, anyway.

Darcy didn’t have normal days anymore, not really.

Though when Darcy saw the steaming hunk of something in the middle of her porch, she re-evaluated what she considered ‘normal’. Talking about AWOL mythological men? Normal. Seeing what appeared to be a charred UFO on top of your Gramma’s garden gnome? Not Normal.

“Oh my gosh!” Darcy cried, rushing towards the wreckage. Her first instinct was to pull out her smart phone and document the incident, but that all changed when she saw a brown hand resting limply amongst the debris. _Oh my gosh—_ said out of panic instead of incredulity. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Darcy wasn’t a medic and she certainly wasn’t good with machines, but she was pretty sure that steaming tech and unconscious person didn’t usually mean good things.

With a hammering heart, Darcy decided to see if the person was okay. Her hands shook as she pried away the metal, as she struggled to free the stranger from whatever had crushed them. Poor pedestrian… probably had been minding their own business when the weird hunk of something had squashed them… Darcy hoped everything would turn out okay.

Moments passed and the pedestrian theory was quickly disproved. This couldn’t be a pedestrian, not with the Tron garb the girl was wearing. Black fabric with bright red accents clung to the young woman’s body, with hardly a scratch on it despite the wearer’s battered state. And Darcy swore she saw some type of hammers on ole girl’s legs…

An alien?

There was a billionaire flying around in a metal suit and, again, Space Boyfriend. Alien wasn’t a totally out there guess.

Alien or not, the girl was unconscious and covered in contusions. A finger to the neck proved she was—somehow—still alive, but Darcy didn’t want to bet money that she still would be in a matter of moments. So, like a sensible human being, Darcy called the ambulance and sat loyally by the woman’s side until help came.

In hindsight, she probably should’ve just thrown her on a hospital’s doorstep and washed her hands of the mess as soon as possible.

 


	2. Back in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara wakes up in a hospital, ready to find Tony. Enter SHIELD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit rushed. I really want to get to the good stuff (ie getting the gang together).

Amara woke up.

She hadn’t been expecting that.

The last thing she remembered (aside from the thing she _refused_ to remember), was swirls of black and fire and the sound of her own screams tearing out of her lungs. After that… nothing. Now, she was staring up at a white ceiling. An unfamiliar white ceiling. _Had it worked?_ Amara shifted a little to better examine her room.

Dated, clearly, with machines she’d only seen in history books. Windows with venetian-blinds, odd wall color, overall pristine appearance… It was the beeping machine that clued her in. She was in a hospital. An old time hospital. _Oh my God…_ she stared at the TV mounted in the corner, playing some kind of soap opera.

 _You did it, Stark. You actually did it._ There was a pang in her chest. She wasn’t ready to remember that yet.  

Slowly, Amara pushed up against her bed. Nothing seemed to be hurting too much, aside from her head. It’d be best if she went on her way. She had to find the Avengers, after all, tell them about Thanos’s plan as soon as—

“Oh my gosh, you’re alive!” Before Amara could intubate herself, a dark haired woman rushed into her hospital room. From her street clothes and youthful face, Amara was willing to bet that this was not her doctor. Who it was, exactly, Amara didn’t have an answer. The young woman tensed, ready for anything.

“Who are you?” she snapped, doing her best to look menacing. The woman in question hardly even noticed. Amara wasn’t even sure she’d heard the question as, instead of answering, the stranger hurried to plop into the chair by Amara’s bedside and scan her body frantically.

“Oh my God, you totally look like a person now. Not to imply you didn’t before, but your skin was all charred and you were covered in soot. Soot? Maybe ash, I don’t know. I’m glad you’re okay, though, because having someone die on my front lawn would’ve been a great way to screw up my week.” Amara blinked. Was this girl on some kind of drug?

“Um… what?” The woman was now on what Amara recognized as a cell phone, the precursor to the communication devices in her time, with a lot more useless applications and leisurely settings that had no purpose to be added during times of war.

“You almost died on my porch. I think some UFO fell on you, or maybe you crashed your UFO, I haven’t decided which theory makes more sense…” The woman typed away at her smartphone before looking up, her bright eyes full of innocence and curiosity. “By the way, the name’s Darcy. AKA the girl who saved your life.” Um…

“Hello… Darcy.” Amara shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the position she was in; dressed in hospital garb, connected to a bunch of machines while someone she didn’t know sat by her bedside toting a bag that could’ve very well had hidden weaponry. What if this mystery girl was someone from the future sent to stop her? “Where am I?”

“The Medical City of Willowdale,” Darcy said breezily, placing her phone back in her purse but removing something else. “Want some gum?” Amara blinked. “Oh, right, you’ve just been injured. You probably don’t want any gum right now.” Darcy slid the slim box back into her bag. “Hey, can I ask you a question? Are you an alien?”

“You think I’m an alien?”

“Well, you were dressed up like you came from the future…” Darcy wasn’t wrong. But Amara doubted informing a regular civilian about the true nature of her appearance would be anything but counter-productive. So, she lied.

“I don’t remember what happened.” Darcy pouted.

“Aw. That sucks. It would’ve been cool if you were from the same place as—” All too late, the brunette seemed to realize what she was saying, slapping a hand over her mouth. Amara’s brows furrowed in confusion while Darcy muttered a muffled ‘ _never mind_ ’ through her fingers. _O…kay_.  

“You said I came in futuristic clothes… do you know where they are?” Amara couldn’t do much saving in a hospital gown. Well, she could. But it’d be a lot easier if she had her suit. The thing converted sun light into energy and would help her body heal, ease the pain radiating in some of her joints.

“Nope,” Darcy said, a little predictably. “I’m just the good Samaritan that brought you here. The only reason I’m in this room is because somebody upstairs likes me.” Huh. Amara moved again, trying to sit up a little higher and appear less vulnerable. This Darcy girl was amiable, pleasant, but Amara still didn’t trust her.

She’d seen Thanos use mind games to manipulate her most stalwart of allies. She would not let her guard down.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Amara said, rigidly, “but I have something important to tell the Avengers, and if you can’t contact them, then you’re pretty much useless.” Darcy blinked at her, which wasn’t all that surprising. The girl appeared to be an average twenty first century citizen. She probably wasn’t personally connected to the Avengers, probably had only seen them on television or—

“Who’re the Avengers and do they make music?”

Wait, what?

No, no the girl really couldn’t be asking about them… right? The Avengers were known worldwide. They’d defeated the crazy Asgardian prince, they’d destroyed Ultron. Even people in the remotest of regions had probably caught a glimpse of one of the heroes. And yet this girl seemed to genuinely not know what Amara was talking about.

“You know,” Amara tried again, “The Avengers? Captain America and Hulk and Thor?”

“You know Thor?” Darcy’s eyes brightened. Uh oh. _Fan girl on the horizon_.

“Not personally,” Amara hedged, “but I need to speak with him at once.”

“Huh. Well you know, _I_ know Thor, so I could totally arrange that as… soon as he returns to Earth.” Returns?

“So Loki already tried subjugating New York?” The confused expression washed over Darcy’s face once more.

“Subjugate New York? Dude, what _are_ you talking about?” Uh oh. Uh oh, uh oh, _uh oh_. Amara leaned her head back against her bed, shut her eyes tight.

“Darcy?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind telling me the date?”

“Oh, uh, sure, I guess. It’s April 13th.”

“Year?”

“…2011.”

Oh. God.

Stark had built a time machine alright, one that had sent her entire _years_ behind schedule. The group she was supposed to aid hadn’t even been _created_ yet! With that, Amara let out a loud groan. _Freaking perfect._

*

A week passed before Amara could finally argue her way out of the hospital. Surprisingly, Darcy had stopped by every day bringing delicacies from the unhealthy restaurant across the street, food the hospital personnel would’ve blanched at if they’d known what the young woman had been sneaking in for her. Amara wasn’t quite sure why Darcy kept buzzing around, but she figured if she was going to somehow right the error, she might as well stick with someone who _kind of_ knew what she was talking about.

Though aside from Thor and Iron Man, Darcy’s knowledge was very limited.

And even what she knew about those two was pretty inaccurate.

“So did you manage to get my clothes?” Amara asked from where she sat atop her bed as Darcy strode in that day. The young woman bobbed her head, holding up a plastic bag. The comfort Amara felt upon looking at her attire resonated in her chest. Finally.

“I think they were trying to impound it because, like I said, it looked alien or futuristic or something. But I convinced them you’re just into cosplay.”

“Cosplay?” Amara hadn’t heard of that.

“You don’t know what cosplay is?” Amara shook her head ‘no’. “Alright, um, remind me to update you on that. By the way you so totally owe me and should apologize for calling me useless the first day we met.” Amara raised an eyebrow.

“You remember that?”

“I remember anything,” Darcy preened. “I’m like an elephant.” Right… “So are you going to tell me what kind of alien you are?” Amara turned her back on Darcy, carefully laying her clothes our on the bed. They’d even left her weapons with her. Probably because they were unlike anything in their time. And, she supposed, the cosplay lie Darcy had concocted. Whatever that was. “Are you an Asgardian?”

“Do I look like an Asgardian?”

“Well, you’re not as muscly…” Amara held in her scoff. There was no reason for that to be offensive (except she prided herself in being in peak-health, so yeah, she was pretty offended anyway). “But you’ve got to be something. Or else how would you know about Thor? Unless…” Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, you’re with SHIELD, aren’t you?” HYDRA was the first thing that popped into Amara’s mind. She hissed at the mere thought.

“No,” Amara said, “I’m just…” Amara paused, trying to think of something to say. “…Me.” Darcy’s huff was telling enough. “Would you mind stepping out of the room? I need to change.”

“Okay, sure. But when I come back, you better tell me who you are because you owe me and, well, I need something to spice up my life.” Amara smiled and nodded pleasantly as she watched the woman leave. Then, she hopped into action.

It took a few minutes to struggle into her uniform, but once she’d gotten all the zippers zipped and buttons latched, Amara was ready to disappear. She felt kind of bad for ditching Darcy… but she had a mission to uphold. Darcy had told her everything useful it of information she knew (with a mountain full of trivialities accompanying them).

It was time she found someone who could help.

It was time she found Tony.

Just as Amara started pushing open the hospital window, she heard frantic banging at her door. She didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Darcy burst inside, closely followed by men in dark suits and even darker shades.

“I didn’t tell them anything!” Amara didn’t hesitate to wield her batons, though she didn’t activate them yet, just stared venomously at the men who blocked the doorway and the one who was pinning down Darcy.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” one of the men spoke. “We’d like you to come with us.” Like hell.

“I have something very important I need to do,” Amara said, “if you get in my way, I can’t guarantee you’ll enjoy it.” The man quirked an eyebrow.

“Was that a threat?”

“It’s a plea.” One of the men’s hands twitched towards his gun. Her fists inched towards the power button on her batons.

“We’re with SHIELD,” the front man spoke up, noting the hostility in the air. “We don’t want to hurt you, we only want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She knew about HYDRA hi-jacking SHIELD. She’d read about it. True, there were loyal SHIELD agents trapped inside the massive intelligence apparatus, Amara wasn’t interested in tipping HYDRA—or anyone outside of the Avengers—off that she had knowledge of future events. That was something that could get her hunted down, even imprisoned, and then Thanos would come and the world would end and everything her friends had sacrificed would’ve been for naught.

The image of Stark being impaled filled her mind again.

Amara stiffened.

“ Please,” she said, slowly, calmly. “I need to speak with Tony Stark right now.” The front man’s head fell to the side a little. Even Darcy looked at her in a confused fashion.

“Now what would a Jane Doe want with Tony Stark?” Amara didn’t have time for this. Swiftly, she attempted to jump out the window—glass and all. They’d anticipated it. A hand caught hold of her ankle, yanking her back towards the group of men. Amara was quick to retaliate, swinging her other leg up to clip her adversary’s chin. They both went down. Amara hopped back up.

Of course, the other men charged, too. Hands and feet flew at Amara from all angles, but she’d been raised fighting, so their moves weren’t hard to counter. Besides, it was clear they were pulling their attacks, not really trying to hurt her, only subdue. But it’d take more than that to stop Amara Wilson.

In a matter of minutes, she had the agents on the floor nursing their wounds. She didn’t stay to gloat. Without thinking, she grabbed Darcy’s hand and rushed out of the hotel room, nearly running down an old nurse. She didn’t slow to apologize; she could already hear footfalls chasing after her.

“You are a spy, aren’t you?” Darcy asked as the two raced through the hallway.

“Really? There are armed men chasing us and you’re concerned about that?”

“Well, yeaaaah,” Darcy’s words drew out as they took a particular sharp turn around a corner, jostling them both. “I have to know if I can trust you.”

“I saved your life.”

“Not really. SHIELD is always knocking on my doorstep.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that before they actually came knocking?” The two took to the stairwell.

“Why would I do that? I’m on strict orders to not talk about anything SHIELD related.” Hm. Amara and Darcy traveled down the stairs, making it to the emergency exit in what Amara considered record time. It looked like they were home free. “You are a good guy, right?” Darcy asked as they stopped before the exit door.

“Yes,” Amara said, “that’s why we got away. Good guys always get away.” Except when they didn’t. But Amara was getting tired of all of Darcy’s questions; she couldn’t bite back the caustic response. She was ready to start running when she wrenched the door open, not expecting the dark haired man standing on the other side.

Amara didn’t have a chance to raise a fist before the tall man shot her with something, something that made her head swim and her legs give out from underneath her. Darcy screamed, she knew that, but all she could see were colors dancing before her eyes.

“Agent Ward; I’ve caught the runner.”

That was the last thing Amara heard before she once again dove into darkness.           

 

 

 

 


End file.
